


Watching you sleep

by MyOwnSoldier



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Bathing, Changing POV, Getting Together, Hurt Peter, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Peter Needs a Hug, Peter hale - Freeform, Scott Is A Dick, Slight Violence, Steter - Freeform, Stiles is done, Stiles taking care of Peter, non-graphic, stiles stilinski - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-11
Updated: 2020-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:41:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23109433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyOwnSoldier/pseuds/MyOwnSoldier
Summary: After a run-in with an Ifrit, Stiles takes care of Peter.How things between those two started.
Relationships: Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 8
Kudos: 491





	Watching you sleep

Peter knew, if Stiles was awake he'd call him creepy, with that adorable flush high on his cheeks and a mischievous yet fond glint in his eyes, for watching him sleep. Smiling softly to himself, he reached out, trailing his finger slowly over Stiles furrowed brows and chuckling when the boy's forehead smoothed out.  
For all his bravado, stating that if he wanted something, he'd find a way to get it, he knew he was lucky. Getting Stiles had been quite some work, but to be fair, he wouldn't have wanted it any other way.  
Even back then, just awoken from seven years of his personal hell, he had scented Stiles and knew. Knew, that the fairytales his parents used to tell him and Tally were true, knew that it wasn't overacting on his sister's part when she met Joseph. Stiles was his mate. And his mate had killed him.   
While a part of Peter had felt betrayed, looking back he was more than glad that his precious boy had been fierce enough to end his rampage. Now Peter knew just how wrong his mind had been.   
Stiles hadn't made it easy on him, oh no. Peter wasn't the kind of person to just talk about potential feelings, about how Stiles smile made him feel warm all over, how his gesture-heavy way of communication made him endearing and filled Peter with fond exasperation.   
No, they had bickered and bantered and researched and Stiles had wormed his way deeper and deeper into his heart. Stiles seemed oblivious about that fact, accepting the easy camaraderie between them for what it was and slowly trusting him more and more.   
Peter never would have guessed that Stiles might see him as more than the resurrected nightmare turned ally. And then...

"I told you it's a fucking Ifrit, Scott!"

"But we're in Cali, not the east, Stiles!"

Stiles groaned, looked at the blooming little burn on his leg, where the fabric of his jeans went up in literal flames. His research had - again - proven to be correct and - again - Scott had dismissed it without even seriously thinking or god forbid considering it. Stiles attention laid on the others of the pack - especially on Derek and Peter. Fighting another blip on Beacon Hills Shit-Radar wasn't anything new, but since he had come to the conclusion to what the fuck was roaming the preserve, he had told the Hales to stay the fuck away from the battle. And here they were. Derek, looking pale and shaking, grasping Kiras Hand and looking as if her touch was the only thing keeping him in the present moment. And Peter? 

"Where is Peter?!"

"I don't know Stiles, ask someone else.", Scott's dismissive sound making Stiles' hackles rise. He had enough.

"You fucking asshole!", he burst out, stepping closer, feeling a snarl building up. "We split into teams for a reason, why you thought it'd be a good idea to have Peter in your's I'll never understand."

Looking around the clearing, ignoring the still smoldering corpse of the djinn-creature, Stiles tried to calm his breathing. 

"It was part of your fucking job tonight to have an eye on the people in your team, Scott!"

Now Scotts eyes turned read and the fury radiating off of him was tangible in the cool night air. 

"Well, you're not the alpha here! So stop acting like it! I needed to make sure that Allison's alright and-"

"She wasn't in your team and she had a fucking sprained ankle, you asshole!! Whereas Peter - who by the way I voted to stay the fuck home for - is traumatized as fuck about fire!!"

While Scott started snarling, Allison stumbled closer, keeping the weight off of her left food and throwing a knowing glance towards Stiles.  
Just as Scott seemed to start talking again, Allison shot him a glare.

"He's right, Scott! I was fine. I AM fine.", she took a deep breath. "We split the teams consciously - your idea - and you just didn't follow the plan you agreed to."

Scott seemed to deflate, anger still simmering in his gaze, but directed at Allison laid only fondness. 

"But-"

"No but, Scott."

Stiles balled his fists, refusing to show Scott how shook up he was about his negligence, before he turned around and walked. 

"Stiles, where are you-?", Kira asked. 

"Looking for Peter. With your senses, one of you might find him easier, but I don't think he'd want someone else to see him in whatever state he is. Let's hope he accepts me worrying.", he mumbled the last part. "Maybe you should take Derek back, I am sure the others will manage clean-up."

While Jackson groaned slightly, Isaac, Erica, and Boyd - having been told the story of the Hale-fire and the background behind it - nodded solemnly. 

Stiles carefully traipsed the way back they had come, listening to his surroundings and looking for any kind of clue where Peter could be. He had told the other man more than once to stay back, being incredibly frustrated by Derek's insistence to come too, but Peter hadn't budged, most likely due to his pride. And where had it got him? Apparently not too far, since Stiles suddenly head rasping breaths to his left and with a jolt he turned towards it.

"Peter?"

The man didn't answer, he was sitting on the ground, leaning his back against a tree, head hung low, eyes closed. He was breathing heavily, he was sweating and Stiles could see the frantic heartbeat of the wolf in the fast pulsing of the vein at his neck. Slowly, as if Peter was a scared animal, Stiles crept closer, softly talking nonsense and finally sinking to his knees - his burns screaming - in front of him. Peter was mumbling, too fast for Stiles to understand, but with a gentle yet firm grip, he took one of Peters hands. 

"Peter?"

Peters head shot up, pure panic in his eyes looking around as if to search for some unknown danger. 

"It's alright. The Ifrit is taken care of. Everyone is okay."

He rubbed small circles with his thumb on the back of Peters hand. There were some smudges of ash on his face, the right arm of his sweater singed down to the elbow and still healing burns on his forearm.   
Internally Stiles cursed but putting on a small smile, he stood back up. 

"Come on, Peter. I'll take you home.", he whispered. "We both need a shower."

Peter simply nodded, not talking and gaze still flicking around. The stillness of the wolf creeped Stiles out more than anything before, the not talking and looking so ... frail. Vulnerable. And while a part of him felt honored that Peter obviously didn't close up upon him arriving or just ... leaving, the bigger part in him screamed about Peters suffering. 

"Jeep's thataway."

It was moments like this, that Stiles thanked whatever deity made him as curious and awoke the need for information in him - except for Peter and Stiles (through not completely legal means) no one knew where the wolf lived, but gently steering Peter out of the car and towards the entry to the apartment building he lived in, it definitely came in handy.   
"We're almost there.", Stiles soothingly mumbled. Peter didn't react, except a fast tightening of the grip on Stiles hand. Stiles smiled.   
The ride in the jeep had slowly taken the acute panic out of Peters eyes and now, standing in the elevator to the top floor, one could think Peter was back to normal - but to Stiles he still seemed almost catatonic. No outward reaction, no looking around, no talking. With a soft sigh, he listened to the ding of the machine, that told them they had arrived.   
Now standing in front of the closed door to Peters apartment, Stiles faced some problems. 

"Uhm, dude?"

Peter didn't react. 

"If you don't get out your keys, I'll have to grope around in the pockets of your tight jeans, and I really don't think you'd appreciate me feeling you up."

For a second there was silence, then a slight twitch to Peters eyes and the wolf sighed. 

"Don't call me dude."

They were just four words, sounding rough, scratchy and just done, but the smile on Stiles face could've lit up the whole building. Thank the fucking gods.   
Peter seemed to fumble a moment with the aforementioned tight fabric, but finally produced a small, sleek-looking keyring before opening the door.   
After that, it was back to silence, but Stiles let it be. Stiles had let go of the man's hand, entering the apartment and checking the doors, to see which one led to the bathroom. Peter stood in the middle of the entry room, blandly looking straight ahead.   
Stiles found the - RIDICULOUS - bathroom, whooped and turned back. Seeing Peter, he sighed softly before taking the man's hand again and making him sit on the couch. It was big, looking soft and a dark blue. Looking around, Stiles had to admit that he didn't have something like that in mind when it came to the living situation of the wolf. He thought modern and minimalistic, but the apartment was decked out in art and color and comfort. There were plants and decorative knick-knacks on the edges of the filled bookshelves. Fuck, there were squishy looking throw pillows on the couch and the armchair. Shaking his head and reevaluating his first thoughts, he turned back to Peter. 

"I am going to take a shower, afterward it's your turn."

Peter didn't react. 

Biting his bottom lip Stiles turned around, went to the bedroom and grabbed two sets of boxers and shirts. In the bathroom, he quickly slipped out of his soot-covered clothing, threw it in the washer and closed it's door, before jumping in the shower and making quick work of getting clean.   
The burn it ... well, it burned, but the warm water was also heaven on the tight muscles of his back and closing his eyes, Stiles tried to find his center and breathed out.   
The shower didn't take more than ten minutes and rubbed pink all over - except his injured leg, that was pink one way or another - he grabbed a towel from the cabinet under the sink and stopped. There was a first aid kit. Why the fuck would "I am a Werewolf, I heal!"-Peter need a first aid kit? Shrugging slightly he took out some salve and gauze, patched himself up as good as possible, dried off and shrugged on the borrowed clothes of Peter, before stepping out.  
Peter didn't seem to have moved a muscle and swallowing Stiles stepped closer, touching the man's shoulder. Peter flinched slightly, before focussing his eyes on Stiles. 

"Come on. Time for a bath, creeperwolf."

There was a flicker of emotion in Peters eyes, before he nodded, slowly got up and followed Stiles to the bathroom.   
Stiles had already set up the tub, choosing one of the fancy-looking bath-crystals Peter had in a little pot on the side of it and throwing a look at the mans arm, he saw that the burns had healed. Thank the heavens.  
Peter seemed to freeze up again, caught in the mix of resignation and vulnerability and without acknowledging the situation fully, Stiles started to undress him. Peters skin was clammy, at some points still sweaty and there was a barely noticeable tremor to his muscles. Only when it came to getting Peter out of his boxers faltered Stiles for a second, before pulling them down with determination and a bright red flush on his face.   
The soft rumbling of the water filling the tub was brought to a halt, when Stiles turned it off, swishing his hand through the warm water and guiding Peter in. The wolf went willingly, acting as if every motion was on auto-pilot. 

"I hope the temperature is okay. I know you guys usually run hot, but you feel a bit cool to the touch. Probably the shock. I mean-"

"It's okay."

Stiles let out a breath and with a soft smile, Stiles watched as Peter closed his eyes, took a deep breath and sunk deeper into the water. Stiles grabbed the small loofah and with firm, but gentle motions he started to wash Peters arms and chest, softly humming under his breath. He watched Peters thick neck and bit his tongue, before shaking his head and lifting one of Peters legs a bit to clean that.   
Peter simply let Stiles maneuver him however he wanted and when Stiles was happy with the state of Peters body, he put away the little sponge and grabbed the shampoo.

"Can you sit up a bit? I want to wash your hair."

Peters gaze took him by surprise, the fondness and relief and with a small nod the wolf sat up, closing his eyes again and letting Stiles wet his hair. The shampoo didn't smell like much, just clean and fresh. Stiles took his time, covering every strand of hair in the white suds before he started massaging Peters scalp. The low groan of appreciation made him feel warm all over and relieved he could see the tension slowly draining out of Peters body. 

"Good?"

"Mhmm..."

When the water started to cool too much, Peter carefully sat up, casting a look at Stiles and then to the towels. 

"I'll finish myself..", he murmured and Stiles nodded, before getting up. 

"I put some change of clothes on the cabinet. And I'll put the other clothes in the washer, is it okay if I turn it on?"

Peter nodded and with a small smile, Stiles left the bathroom. He felt jittery somehow, being so close to Peter when he was that vulnerable. And even though Stiles had sworn to not even think about whatever he felt towards Peter, he couldn't deny the rush it gave him, to be allowed to take care of the wolf.   
The situation was horrible and he would chew out Scott as soon as things had calmed down, but at least he was - at least probably - able to help the man he- ...well, he what? Shaking his head, Stiles turned towards the kitchen, helping himself to a bottle of water and almost draining it completely.   
Only moments later Peter entered, still looking rough, but calmer. Without saying anything he too drained a bottle, before gently grabbing Stiles hand and pulling him towards the bedroom. He didn't turn on the light, instead guiding Stiles to the kingsize bed, pushing on his shoulders to show that he could sit, before climbing on the mattress himself and pulling Stiles up to him. Peters chest to his back felt warm and a muscular arm snaked around his waist, pulling him closer. Goosebumps rose on Stiles arms. He didn't dare to disturb the silence, instead closing his eyes and putting his hands on Peters.   
Only the soft press of lips against his neck, moments later, made him open his eyes. Ignoring the heat of his face and the butterflies in his belly, he swallowed. 

"Stiles?"

"M-Mhm?"

"Thank you."

Stiles smiled, squeezing Peters hand. 

"Always dude."

"And don't call me dude."

That had been over a year ago. Their relationship had ...developed, one could say. From lingering touches and soft gazes. From stolen kisses in the middle of the night over research, to dinner with the sheriff. From an emotional first time in Peters bed, to hasty handjobs right before a pack meeting.   
A grin crept on Peters face and licking his lips, he caressed Stiles cheek. The boy was ...everything. He hadn't yet told him about the whole mate-business, still - and if it ever came out, he'd deny it - afraid that it would scare the boy away, make things awkward or a dozen other negative scenarios his head had created. No, this was fine for now. 

"Peter?"

"Hm?"

Stiles slowly turned around, light creasing of the pillow his face had mashed in on his cheeks, eyes only half open and his hair sticking out in every direction.

"...did you watch me sleep, you creeper?", Stiles hoarse sounding voice took him out of his observation and with a smile he nodded. 

"Of course, sweetheart. Nothing better to do."

"Ass."

And there it was. That slightly embarrassed, smug grin and the flush on Stiles cheeks. Leaning forward Peter captured Stiles in a sensual kiss, before picking him up bridal style and moving towards the bedroom.

"Time to actually sleep anyway, darling. I would have woken you in a minute before you get a crick in your neck and complain to me all day, tomorrow."

Stiles seemed to be too tired to say anything about being carried like that, instead putting his arms around Peters neck and snuggling closer.

"'kay."

Peter smiled.


End file.
